When I made BRAZIL in 1984 I had no idea of the extraordinary effect it would have on the world. There was no way I could have imagined that a large country in South America would name itself after my film. I was dangerously proud of this honour. But there were more wonderous surprises to come.
Years later some of the greatest footballers in the world would gather together, naming their team after my film, and go on to win the 2002 World Cup. Wow! I said to myself, what next? How do we top that one?
Well, it looks like the what-next topper has arrived...a tasty new, squeaky clean, must-have magazine which… surprise, surprise… has christened itself BRAZIL! A real magazine. With words. And pictures. And a front and back cover. And possibly, just possibly, new and dangerous ideas. Dangerous ideas like the fact that the editors think my film was named after THEIR magazine…. even though my film was made 17 years before. What effrontery! What nonsense!
However, after my initial shock at this outrageous suggestion, I began to wonder if perhaps this could actually be true - what if I was guilty - a thief, a purloiner of future ideas and names? Had I travelled backwards in time having stolen this magic and original word, BRAZIL, knowing that I could use it for the title of my film without causing suspicion from future historians? What was the truth? I was unsure. I’ve a great reservoir of guilt waiting to overflow and take the blame for much of the weirdness of the world. Maybe this was just my desperate ego wanting to take credit for the possibility of time travel. Unfortunately, H.G. Wells had beaten me to that one. Or was this simply the result of opening this provocative magazine which I may have named my film after? I was lost. Confused. Bemused. Endless possibilities flooded my tortured brain. I gasped. Clutched the wretched publication to my erupting chest. Then I passed out.
Now, days later, as I lie here in this filthy pit of ordure and variegated rose petals I call home, I’m hoping those of you who have been lured into buying BRAZIL (the magazine - not the country, football team, or movie) will guide me to a clearer understanding. Perhaps your brains can take the full effect of reading this publication without succumbing to these terrifying confusions. I certainly hope so, since, if you are reading these words, you are already reading it.
Hopefully, it’s not too late for you. But if you are worried, don’t read it. Eat it. Crunch it up and get your teeth into it. I’ve found it to be very tasty with a home-made Bernaise sauce and tender roast shallots laid on a crisp bed of radicchio and crushed sea shells.
Pleasant dining.
Terry Gilliam
